


Life On Mars?

by cherrysxdas



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24864625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrysxdas/pseuds/cherrysxdas
Summary: Will byers really needs to find better coping skills—3k words of Will’s poor coping skills manifesting into shitty behavior
Relationships: Will Byers/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Life On Mars?

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to do a proper character study? but it turned into 3k words of me rambling about how depressing will’s life is

At twelve years old, the life that Will had built up for himself had been completely ripped from him within the span of only a week.

Of course, it takes months to heal. Anyone would be shaken up after such a traumatic experience. His friends are absolutely positive that he’ll be back to normal in just a few month’s time, that this will all be behind them and things will go back to normal — until it doesn’t. 

Months pass, and Will’s still the same. He isn’t easy going anymore, doesn’t engage. He stays silent in most conversations, only pitching in small comments every once in a while. It’s a large contrast from how he _used_ to be — outspoken, exuberant, always keeping his heart on his sleeve. Some say that it feels as though the real Will had been abducted and replaced with an entirely different person. 

It’s then that his already bad reputation becomes worse. He's now the boy who faked his death. Will received stares everywhere he goes, rooms fall silent when he appears. He knows what people say, he isn’t stupid. They think he did it all on purpose, that he wanted to run away simply for attention and had never planned to come back. He's stripped of his independence, and soon turns to bottling his feelings up in fear of worrying those around him. It becomes a dangerous habit.

There are better days, ones where his family can genuinely see improvement, but it all seems to go down the drain the moment autumn comes around the corner. 

For the second time, Will is dragged through hell and back. recovery isn’t the same routine anymore. it’s different this time around, _far_ different. they had thought the nightmares had been bad before, the isolation, the sleepless nights. but this had been absolutely horrible. It was days and weeks of staying locked in his room, hardly sleeping or eating. The times he did sleep, it wasn’t long before he’d wake up screaming and hyperventilating. He hardly ever spoke about it, but throughout this entire period, Will deemed himself a murderer.

He thought he was deserving of punishment of some sort, that he didn’t deserve the support he was being given. It's as though the only thing he can feel is deep, bubbling rage, and an ever-present fear.

It takes months to finally get back on his feet, grades and gpa having been permanently damaged from his absence. He's talking again, yet it seems as though he’s taken this all with a hardened heart. In his eyes, he’s been moping for long enough. It’s tiring and all he wants is to make it stop — so he does. The question of whether or not he’s _really_ better raises, but Will pays it no mind. He becomes obsessed with the idea of trying to raise his spirit, and does just about anything he can to make himself feel something. His old interests are a focal point, Will practically clinging to the idea of the party going back to normal. The change scares him, reminds him that he’s the only one who truly hasn’t moved on yet.

When disaster strikes yet again, Will hardly processes any of it. They’re n grave danger and he’s well aware, yet there’s a disconnect with his emotions. there’s a sense of apathy, as if simply witnessing these events weren’t traumatic. He deems it necessary to keep pulling himself forward and to carry on. and when everything has finally settled down, he’s run out of the same adrenaline that kept him going. A deep, chilling paranoia takes it’s place. It comes as a shock to him — he’d felt so outside of everything, only to suddenly be pulled back right back down into that fearful state. 

* * *

Moving had granted Will the peace of mind that he’d been desperately searching for all those years. A deep ache had settled into his bones that day, as if a part of himself had been left behind in Hawkins. It’s conflicting; there’s nothing more that Will hates more than that awful town, yet leaving was an unbearable experience. He frequently has to remind himself that this is for his own good; they can’t heal in a place like this. Will repeats it in his mind like a mantra for weeks. 

Maybe it was a way to distance himself from everything that had happened back in his hometown, Will wasn’t quite sure. But within the first couple months of moving, Will had gone through a lot of unnecessary change. It could’ve been his way to adapt with the abrupt changes in his own environment, perhaps. Either way, it was all drastic. It was in little things, such as allowing El to cut his hair into a far more acceptable style before starting school, and in other, far more unsavory ways. Will had dropped most of his old interests, absolutely anything that reminded him of Hawkins .. Including his childhood friends. The detachment was slow and painful. He vowed to keep in touch; his friends were all he really had, and he couldn’t simply leave behind the one support system he’d been given. But as the months went by, the mere thought of Hawkins made Will’s skin scrawl, and soon enough the daily phone calls became weekly, then it became rare for him to do so much as pick up the phone. 

Will joined cross country earlier that year as a sophomore. He figures he’s had enough practice running from murderous, interdimensional creatures, and he’s good at it for the most part, so why not use it to burn off steam? besides, it’d be good to stay in shape if things come back to fuck up his life again. It’s not the most healthy driving factor, given it’s all surrounded by the idea that _something_ horrific will happen to him at any moment now, but Will tries not to think about it much. 

It's supposed to be a healthy coping skill, yet time and time again, he finds himself pushing himself far beyond his limits, all in the name of “trying to forget.” it’s as if his muscles are practically screaming at him, and his lungs are heaving, he can’t think of everything he’s lost. 

* * *

Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take long for Will to find people he can really get along with. The people he meets are, surprisingly enough, fairly supportive people, and they make quick friends. But as good as they are, there’s still a disconnect. Will supposes this is just how it’ll be for the rest of his life, that he’ll never really connect to anyone. It's something that he learned to accept. There’s really no way he can fully relate to anyone now. 

He goes on his first date in sophomore year. It's with a girl he shares an art class with, and while she was a lovely girl, nothing had clicked. He distinctly remembers her leaning in to kiss him on their walk back home, and Will had pushed her away without much thought at all. She never spoke to him again after that night. 

That same group of friends were the ones to take him to his first end-of-the-year party. Parties had never been his scene before, but Will's absolutely convinced that it’ll somehow take this weight off his shoulders, just for one night. And because it’s just one night, Will wouldn’t be able to make the most of it unless he drank a little, right? It took some convincing from others at first, Will having been party convinced he was betraying his mother _somehow._ His father always had an issue with alcohol; there was a clear example of how destructive it could be right before his eyes, and Will had an unspoken promise with his mother that he’d never let that happen to himself. But alas, how bad can one little can of booze be?

Unbeknownst o him, that single party wasn’t the end of it. There were plenty more in tow. Now that the people around him knew he was willing to accompany them and wasn’t a wuss about it, it became more and more common. At first he was typically his friend’s ride, and he’d never deliberately put them in danger by getting drunk. Although certainly hadn’t stayed that way, as on more than one occasion, Will's found himself waking up on a friend’s couch, head pounding and stomach just about ready to empty his last meal. He’s slowly breaking his vow of _no more secrets,_ and a sick part of himself finds it humorous that all he does is keep secrets. 

His first _real_ relationship isn’t the most glamorous. It’s a boy he shares english with, Jacob — the guy wasn’t too bad, he was sweet, and he never seemed to mind keeping Will company. He was always so invested in the other’s art, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to get a good look of whatever Will Was tracing onto the corners of his papers more often than not . It was nice to have such a comforting presence, something he’s missed ever since leaving hawkins. It doesn’t last long, however — Will still isn’t completely sure what happened. Jacob tried getting close, tried to break down the walls Will had perfectly constructed, and he freaked. it’s safe to say that he backed out quicker than he’d like to admit. 

Will can’t say that the next few boyfriends are as nice. It seemed as though the closet cases tended to go for him; most could tell he was queer, yet he wasn’t so obvious to really drag too much attention to himself. He wasn’t feminine and flamboyant, nor was he hyper-masculine. For closeted jocks, it was perfect. No one ever suspected it, anyway. Will knows he should be upset that so many men used him simply to figure themselves out, used him as an experiment at most, yet he could never find it within himself to care. He received affection from a man, and they never seemed to ever get close, never tried to bring him home to the family or care to ask why he always seemed so exhausted over the mere aspect of existing. It was a mutualistic relationship, he supposed. 

He’s got one of those boyfriends to blame for his smoking problem. His name was Clancy, and he always reeked of bad cologne and pot. He clearly remembers sitting in the back of his car, leather seats warmed uncomfortably by the beaming sun and air stuffy and thick. Will's hair was disheveled and clothes rumpled - Clancy was always a little too handsy when they kissed - and he’d been in the process of straightening his appearance as the telltale click of a zippo resonated through the small car. The bitter scent of smoke, and then a cigarette is being passed his way. Joyce had always assured Will that smoking wasn’t worth it and was merely a waste of money, but despite all, Will found himself inhaling the putrid smoke without much thought. It became a nightly ritual after that. There’s een growing apathy in his morality, and he couldn’t be bothered to care about the state of his already permanently damaged lungs. 

* * *

Graduation was a letdown. Highschool did little for Will, only kept him locked in a building with people who’d much rather see him dead. That's how it is for all queers like him, however. There isn’t much to complain about if he’s brought this on himself. 

He poses stiffly for an array of pictures, lips curved upwards uncomfortably. He’s certainly glad to be out of this hellhole, without a doubt; it’s the certain aftermath that’s got him so down. 

Whilst he definitely closed himself off from all of Hawkins, the party certainly exchanged letters every once in a blue moon, typically on birthdays and big holidays. They usually aren’t the most sincere anymore. Will hasn’t seen the faces of his old friendships in years —perhaps two or three, he thinks. Yet somehow, they’d agreed to a conjoined graduation party. Most likely the second one they’ve thrown, given the group had already graduated a week before Will. Nonetheless, it’s still a horrifying thought. He isn’t completely sure why he agreed to it in the first place, although El certainly had something to do with it. He didn’t have it in him to say no to her. 

And so, Will finds himself driving el to hawkins. It's a long drive, stretching over twenty five hours, not including the frequent snack and bathroom breaks. He's not sure he’s ever seen El so excited before, although the same can’t be said for himself. The farther they go, the more uneasy Will becomes. it’s unbearable. The mere thought of stepping foot into Hawkins settles a deep sense of dread in his bones, yet here he is, forcing himself headfirst into the god-awful town. He nearly goes though half a pack on the drive there. It’s not like anyone pays any mind to him — he’s _almost_ legal, and he could easily pass as nineteen. The eyebags definitely help, even if he’s just turned eighteen just two months before. at least the constant stress helped him out _somehow_. 

Will’s an absolute wreck once they reach Hawkins. At one point, they stopped at a general store for el to run in and buy a few last minute gifts whilst Will stayed put in the car. It’s then that he breaks, hands trembling as he grips the steering wheel and sobs wracking his chest. He won’t allow El to ask much about it, and she doesn’t press for information. 

He pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway soon after, something so surreal yet familiar. El is quick to barrel out of the car and rush to the front door, whilst Will slowly trailed behind. It’s ll unbearably uncomfortable. Will’s awkward with them all, can’t easily engage in conversation like he used to. He’s got a strong feeling that they’re angry with him and simply tolerating his presence for their friend who _actually_ kept in touch. He doesn’t have an excuse as to why he simply stopped speaking to them all. He can’t simply tell them that the mere thought of Hawkins makes him sick to his stomach, and any reminders had to be purged. 

As time passes on, he grows unsure if it’s disdain he’s sensing, or pity. His eyes are sunken in, hands are shaky, and it’s clear that he’s been crying just moments before. Will doesn’t give anyone the chance to question him, however. He’s maintained a wall of security for years now, and he isn’t about to let one little visit to some shithole town ruin that. He doesn’t allow himself to be alone with anyone, and definitely doesn’t stick around for longer than needed. Needless to say, Will doesn’t feel too thrilled to come back for another visit anytime soon. 

* * *

Will can hardly afford college. It’s definitely not something his family could ever save up for, and He’s absolutely positive he’ll be knees deep in debt for years, yet despite all he still enrolls himself for a shitty degree in english. His future’s already fucked enough as it is, Will at least needs this fighting chance at a career. Art school definitely was out of the question; it was far more expensive than his current school, and the scholarship was never accepted. He can’t complain _too_ much, though. it’s in a big city, and there’s plenty of gay bars littered thoughout downtown. in the very least, he’s got an easy escape. 

The parties aren’t as boring as the little suburban house parties he’s visited as a teenager. Now he can _really_ do as he pleases. And if he wants to get blackout drunk, so be it. It beats spending all night staring up at the ceiling, feeling shaken after a particularly bad nightmare. The men here weren’t complete douchebags, either. He could simply waltz into a gay bar and find a man who’s not afraid to genuinely touch him. They aren’t hesitant and afraid, won’t treat him like some disgusting piece of garbage only here to make them feel good. It’s a nice change of scenery, he’s got to admit. Turns out he’s missed real affection for far too long. 

Will doesn’t allow himself a proper relationship, though. He doesn’t view it as something he deserves. it’s a responsibility he’s put on his shoulders — he can’t drag anyone into the nightmare that is his life. At any moment, things could come crashing down yet again and Will can’t simply allow someone he cares for to be dragged head first into hell with him. So instead, he grants himself one night stands, or feeble relationships at most. Most nights are spent doing anything he can to drown out the festering toxicity within him, and only ends up slowly feeding into it in the process.But, he’d much rather take the burn of gin washing down his throat than the flashbacks of being burned alive. It doesn’t do much for the hollowness in his chest, though. 

And so _maybe_ the drinking had gotten out of hand. and _maybe_ Will had been sent to the hospital more times than once to get his stomach pumped. Ir happens. He doesn’t take it seriously, though. it isn’t until his family starts calling that Will really realizes just how careless he’d been. Although he certainly had his mind in the wrong place. 

He was able to evade the smothering, the pity, the constant hovering over his shoulder for years, but now he’s slipped up and it’s all back again. 

All because of one little depressive episode. He's not sure who told his family why he hasn’t been going to class, or even doing so much as leaving his apartment. He's got either his roommate or his ex to blame, and Will definitely doesn’t have the energy to start pointing fingers. 

It doesn’t surprise Will at all when he finds el knocking at his door not too soon after, Jonathan in tow. The looks on their faces are a great reminder of how pitiful he is, and words can’t explain just how angry that makes him. 

He makes an effort to at least _try_ to convince him. He’s just a little stressed, and that he’ll be back on his feet in no time, the hospital trips had been over small little mishaps, and that the strong scent of alcohol was just because of a little party the night before. The absence of color to his skin and the trembling of his hands are a dead giveaway. There’s hardly any point arguing with them — they know him too well. 

He sits quietly and listens to their concerns. The shame pools in his stomach, accompanied by twinges of guilt. _This isn’t you_ , they tell him, begging, pleading for him to swallow his pride and get help. It’s the pain in his voice that gets him; the walls are crumbling and there’s nothing he can do about it. His hands itch for a cigarette. He doesn’t reach for them, however. He stays put in his seat, eyes focused on the floor below them, and he just cries. Will can feel his cheeks burning with shame, but once it starts, it won’t stop. 

It’s then, for the first time in years, that Will allows himself to cry in his brother’s arms. El is at his side in an instant, a hand rubbing circles into his shoulder as he lets it all out. There’s that little voice in his head screaming at him to _stop_ , to stop shoving the weight of his struggles onto them like this. But for once, Will doesn’t pay it any mind. He deserves the comfort — they’re quick to remind him of that. It’s something he can definitely get used to again. 


End file.
